Fake Dating!
by BBC Shipper
Summary: In case the immensely creative title didn't give it away - this is a modern au following the beloved fake dating trope featuring Turnadette of Call the Midwife.
1. Chapter 1

He had overheard it often in many different forms, but tonight's most recent phrase — "Dr. Turner sure is a looker" — was playing around his head with a certain sense of irony. There was no end of adjectives that were tossed around Nonnatus Women's Hospital, by both nurses and patients, concerning the recently widowed doctor. Tim couldn't understand their fascination if he were honest, but he usually did well to tune out the chatter concerning his dad. He'd gotten used to it in his many afternoons spent alone in the hospital's break room after school. Patients would gossip loudly in their rooms about the doctors and nurses, not seeming to care who heard every opinionated word. The nurses, at least, tried to be a bit more discreet about their colleagues, although there were many instances where whispered words would turn to giggles as they entered the break room, frequently not noticing the young boy tucked away in the corner. The only one who didn't force him to think about his dad in a way that he would really rather not were the Sisters, the nuns who oversaw the nursing staff. He really didn't think he could take it if even the nuns started tittering on about his dad. But that last phrase played over and over in his head tonight as he watched his dad hunched over at his desk, "Dr. Turner sure is a looker." All his dad looked right now was worn thin.

Patrick Turner was not an old man, Tim knew that, but he also knew that his father looked to have aged a decade in the year since his mum had died. Tonight, he looked even older as he spoke with his mother-in-law on the phone. Tim could recognize the signs of frustration and fatigue quite clearly — frequently pinching the bridge of his nose, rubbing his forehead, constantly battling with the fringe of hair that kept falling into his eyes, not to mention all manner of sighing and non-committal answers to Granny Parker. Based on the side of the conversation he could hear, Tim assumed she was informing him of yet another well-meaning friend attempting to set him up with their niece/cousin/neighbor/friend. He knew they were only trying to help, hoping to find someone to lift his dad out of despair or perhaps just someone who could make sure Tim would eat something other than fish and chips for dinner every night, but they didn't seem to realize that every introduction ended in disaster.

"We've been invited for tea tomorrow at Granny Parker's," he said as he hung up the phone, and added with a sigh of resignation, "Helen is bringing her hairdresser." Helen was Granny's neighbor, who had already run through her list of single female relations, and was apparently grasping at straws. "She seems to think we'll hit it off and wants to make sure I'll have a date for the Christmas party." Patrick's forehead hit the desk with a loud thunk, "I really need a girlfriend."

"Interesting proposal, Doctor, but that's not exactly why I came to your office."

Tim spun around on his heels and Patrick shot up from his desk so fast he nearly fell over his chair. Neither had noticed Nurse Mannion in the doorway. Prim, proper, and no nonsense, she often kept to herself around the other nurses, often too busy to stop and chat, though she always made time to stop in the chapel when the Sisters were having prayer. Tim saw Nurse Franklin often try to engage her in conversation and gossip, but something seemed to hold her back — he couldn't figure out if she was too shy, too uncertain of herself, or if she just enjoyed the work so much she didn't mind her social life taking a backseat. Still, Tim liked her quite a bit — Nurse Mannion was the only one outside of the Sisters who seemed to always notice him, treating him with kindness in her own quiet way.

Patrick attempted to straighten himself with as little embarrassment as possible, hands quickly moving to smooth the numerous wrinkles in his light pink button-up shirt. "I… um… well… you see what I was saying...what I mean is...that's not what I…" words came tumbling out, but they seemed to have lost all coherent thought or meaning.

A broad smile played out on the nurse's lips. "You know what? Why not? I'm in." And with a tiny nod and a wink toward Tim she added, "Just don't tell Sister Julienne, I overheard her yesterday giving a long speech to Nurse Franklin about fraternizing with colleagues."

Tim's eyes became wide as saucers as he looked between the two adults. He couldn't quite read Nurse Mannion's face as he kept waiting for the punchline. The moments ticked by, the clock on the wall seeming uncharacteristically loud in the silence of the office, but she didn't budge. Finally Tim turned his attention fully toward the doorway, if only to avoid having to see his dad's tonsils any longer since he seemed unable to pick his jaw off of the floor. "You can't be serious!? Certainly you're joking, right?"

"Of course not! I am absolutely certain we must keep this hidden from Sister Julienne, and everyone else too, for that matter." Her eyes began to twinkle with mischief as the broad smile turned into outright giggles at the looks on the faces of the Turner men.

"I… um… I don't… What?" Patrick still couldn't seem to grasp what was happening. He was just complaining about being set up, and now he had a secret girlfriend? This couldn't be right. He must have hit his head on the desk harder than he thought and had caused hallucinations. For one thing, he was at least ten or fifteen years Nurse Mannion's senior, and for another, he'd made it a rule to never consider anyone at Nonnatus Hospital romantically. And although he hadn't really been in the dating realm since he and Marianne began seeing one another, he knew that it hadn't become this easy. He couldn't just say, 'I need a girlfriend' and have one show up on your doorstep, could he?

"I'm sorry, have I overstepped the mark?" For the first time in the conversation, Nurse Mannion seemed to doubt herself and began to look quite awkward and ill at ease. Her cheeks turned a bright crimson as she continued, "It's just that, I couldn't help but overhear part of your conversation on the phone and I think I understand what you meant — you're tired of being paraded around in front of all your relations' single friends, aren't you?"

Patrick could only nod in affirmation, as he didn't want to embarrass himself a third time with nonsensical speech.

"How could you tell that from what little he said?" Tim asked amazed, "You could only hear his half of the conversation!"

"My mother died when I was young," she explained quietly, all evidence of her earlier mirth dissipated. "I remember my father complaining about all those who kept trying to replace her. It seemed that every customer in his greengrocer's shop knew someone who could fill that place, someone who could be the mother I no longer had." Her eyes clouded over for a few moments deep in thought, almost as if she were seeing herself as a child again in her mind's eye, until she shook her head quickly, clearing the thoughts away and forcing herself back into the present. "I only meant that I could play the part, if you wanted, to get some of those well-meaning relatives out of your way?"

Tim seemed to process her words quicker than Patrick, jumping up and grabbing her hand, grinning from ear to ear. "What a smashing idea! Dad, Helen would _have_ to leave you alone if you had a girlfriend… then you can 'break up' after Christmas! Nurse Mannion, you're a genius!"

Determined not to sound like a fool, Patrick took his time before attempting to speak again, blinking slowly as comprehension came over him. The problem was, he couldn't even begin to think of what to say. He did know he shouldn't continue this conversation from at his desk and stood slowly to stand a few feet in front of her, looking her over slowly, trying to read every expression. His eyes landed on the lanyard around her neck carrying her Hospital ID - S. Mannion, Lead Midwife, Nonnatus Hospital. Looking back into her face, he softly confessed, "I don't even know your first name."

"Shelagh"

"Patrick"

"There. We've made a start."


	2. Chapter 2

Shelagh swung the door of her locker closed, flinching as she often did at the loud bang which echoed through the room. What had possessed her to offer to be Dr. Turner's — Patrick's _girlfriend_? What was she thinking? In all honesty, she probably hadn't been thinking at all. Is it possible to make drunken decisions from eating too much rum cake? Perhaps she could blame this whole fiasco on Sister Monica Joan and her insistence that Shelagh eat three slices to sustain her through her shift.

No, Shelagh knew she had no one to blame but herself for her actions. She shouldn't have eavesdropped outside of Dr. Turner's office and listened to his phone call. She shouldn't have spoken with such haste. Leaning back against the row of lockers, she let her head fall back with a light thud, letting her mind wander again over the events of the last hour and the emotions running through her. At the forefront was definitely embarrassment, she was never that bold and couldn't believe that she'd been that vulnerable with a man who, though not a complete stranger, was one whom she knew so little. At the same time, she was not ashamed of her actions or words. They were all true and were spoken out of compassion for poor Tim - she remembered the days after her own mother's death too vividly to not be reminded of herself every time she came upon him in the break room. He was so clearly concerned about his father and it broke her heart that he was being forced to grow up so quickly.

Shelagh pushed herself upright, standing as tall as her small frame would allow, determined to make the most of this situation she had found herself in. Thankful she'd had enough sense to ask for his cell number, she began typing out a message before she lost her nerve, trying to keep the tone light even as her heart pounded loudly in her chest: "So when is my first gig as girlfriend?" After a momentary internal debate, wondering whether a man Dr. Turner's age really made use much of emojis in texting, she added in a wink and pressed send.

Hearing the voices of several of the nurses coming off their shifts and entering the room, Shelagh threw her phone into her bag, glad for the distraction from the waiting for a response. Trixie Franklin, by far the most vivacious of the nursing crew, threw her a kind but distant smile before turning back toward the ongoing conversation with Cynthia and Chummy, two nurses whose attitudes toward life were as similar as their stature was different. Apparently Chummy had been invited on a date, as the nurses began teasing about how to enhance her allure — what she should wear, how she should fix her hair, and the things she could say. As she watched the conversation descend into a fit of giggles over something she couldn't quite hear, Shelagh began to feel pangs of sorrow at being so clearly an outsider to their group. Not that it wasn't her fault, because Trixie had tried many times to draw her into their conversations, but Shelagh had always been just a bit too busy for frivolities not involving work. She had known from talks with Cynthia in the chapel that they would all be welcoming toward her, but she had willingly shut herself out, and now she was realizing the consequences of those actions.

Shelagh slipped past them quietly, with her head down in her usual way, and headed quickly home. She heard her phone ding in her bag on the bus, but didn't allow herself to pull it out until she was safely within her small flat, as if someone might discover their new secret if she read his text in so public a space. "Saw you're on night shift. Come with us to tea tomorrow?"

She sucked in a quick breath, tomorrow was awfully soon, but she wasn't backing out now. "Sure. Where should I meet you?"

The reply was almost immediate. "We should probably avoid hospital, so we're not seen. Why don't I pick you up?"

Shelagh rummaged through her mind for an excuse not to tell him where she lived, not sure why she was so nervous for this man she didn't care anything about to see her flat. The flat itself was nothing to look at, small and quite bare, as she didn't spend much time away from Nonnatus Hospital. It wasn't really the furniture and decoration, or lack thereof, which rattled her nerves, but even beginning to imagine his presence in her home, at her table, on her sofa, stirred within her something she didn't want to face. Without any good reason for them to meet elsewhere, she finally sent him the address and added, "I'll meet you out front," with a smile and a building emoji.

Another immediate reply: "Can't wait"

Staring at the screen, Shelagh tried to discern his meaning. His lack of using any tiny pictures to communicate his feelings in ways words could not was quite frustrating. Was he being sarcastic? Was he excited? If he was excited, was it because he was hoping to finally be free of overbearing friends trying to set him up? Or because he misread the situation and was developing feelings for her? No matter how long she stared at those two small words, they held no further revelations.

Finally she simply tossed her phone on the bed with a sigh and focused her attention instead on choosing an outfit for tea. After making what she thought was a suitable choice for the occasion, a sky blue jumper, a pair of blue jeans, and black boots, aiming to look nice but not too formal, she laid the clothes out and turned toward the mirror. For the first time in years, Shelagh took a long look at her reflection. Her hair was still up in its typical bun and her eyes hidden behind her ill-fitting glasses, ones she had meant to have replaced a long time ago, but never got around to doing. Slowly, she reached up and removed her glasses, then loosened her hair from its ties to allow it to fall softly around her shoulders. Leaning in close, she studied her reflection, and allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to be more than simply Nurse Mannion, picturing a life where she had people with whom she could be Shelagh.


	3. Chapter 3

When Patrick and Tim pulled up to Shelagh's building the next day, she was already waiting outside for them. Before getting out of the car to open the door for Shelagh, Patrick turned to Tim and whispered hurriedly, "remember what we talked about. We need Granny and her neighbor to think Nurse Mannion and I are in a serious relationship, but don't say something that will make her feel awkward. I don't want anything to affect our work at Nonnatus." Patrick hadn't slept much the night before, tossing and turning and wondering how he had found himself in this strange situation. He kept pulling out his phone and reading through his brief text exchange with Shelagh, worrying he hadn't said enough or had said too much. The last thing he wanted was for her to get the wrong impression, he knew what some of the nurses said about him, but he also wanted to act convincing because he really hoped this plan would work.

"Good morning, Nurse Mannion, I mean, Shelagh," he said haltingly. He chided himself for sounding so nervous.

"Good morning Patrick."

He couldn't stop his eyes from wandering slightly over her small frame, trying to recall a time he had seen her in something other than scrubs. Seeing her before him in such form fitting jeans and jumper was as jarring to his senses as if one of the Sisters had appeared in street clothes. "You look very nice."

"Thank you," Shelagh smiled nervously, "you look... " Shelagh couldn't figure out how to finish the sentence once she'd begun it. She could tell he had tried, but his choice of tie was unfortunate. Working up a bit of courage, reasoning that she would at least need to appear comfortable near him, she moved closer and straightened the garish tie. "Much better." Her breathing quickened involuntarily as she looked up, locking eyes with him for several moments before looking away suddenly and stepping into the car.

"I told him not to pick that tie!" Tim piped in from the backseat, oblivious to the slight tension that had arisen between the adults.

"Speak more kindly of your father, please Tim," Shelagh blurted before she could stop herself, beginning to feel embarrassed for being so protective over a man she wasn't really dating, but at least Patrick had still been coming around the car and had not heard her outburst.

She offered Tim a small smile by way of apology and he grinned back, somehow he had the feeling this was going to be a lot of fun.

* * *

The drive to Granny Parker's house just outside of the city went quickly and soon the trio found themselves on the doorstep to her small home. Tim was the first to comment on the unfamiliar car parked in Helen's driveway nextdoor, "That must be the hairdresser's car! I wonder if she'll take me for a ride, I've never been in convertible before."

"Tim, that would hardly be appropriate," his father reprimanded, inwardly wondering what kind of woman this setup must be to drive such a flashy car and thanking the heavens that Shelagh had agreed to intervene on his behalf.

Tim seemed ready to interrupt Patrick's rebuke when the door opened and he was enveloped in an immediate hug from his grandmother. "Come in! Come in! I'm so excited to intro…" Granny Parker stopped abruptly when her eyes landed upon Shelagh, a look of confusion crossing her features quickly.

"I'm sorry Granny, I should have warned you _my girlfriend_ might join us," Patrick's emphasis was a little stilted, but it had the desired effect immediately.

"Girlfriend? But I thought… I didn't know… You've never mentioned... Oh dear," the puzzled woman muttered. She turned toward Shelagh with a genuine smile, "please forgive my 's not that you're not welcome, my dear, I just didn't know you existed!"

"Please don't worry, it's all quite new," Shelagh smiled shyly as Patrick grabbed her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze that caused her heart to flutter in her chest, and led her inside.

The reactions of both Helen and her latest potential sweetheart for Patrick, an American woman named Jessica, were similar to Granny Parker's. Shelagh was grateful that neither seemed perturbed by her unexpected presence. In fact, Helen actually looked pleased to see her, the task of finding love for Patrick had turned out to be a much more daunting task that she'd thought it would be. "I'm so glad to see that Patrick has finally hit it off with someone," she said to Shelagh, "even if I couldn't be the one to introduce you. How did you two meet?"

It was at that moment, of course far too late to do anything about it, which Shelagh realized that they had not discussed what story, if any, they would tell about how their relationship began. She wanted to avoid too much lying, as lies were hard to keep up with and she did not want to teach Tim any bad habits. Not to mention the fact that she barely knew Dr. Turner and would have difficulty knowing if anything she said would be so out of character that the two older ladies would realize their charade instantly. So, after a small panicked glance toward the Turner men, she kept her response simple. "We met at hospital. I'm a midwife."

"Oh I just love babies!" Jessica interjected with enthusiasm, "Don't you just love their cute little faces? And feet? And their tiny fingers?"

Helen looked less impressed, clearly longing for more details, but unable to ask any more questions as Jessica began to monopolize the conversation. She decided to try her luck with Tim instead as they cleared away the china. "So, dear, tell me more about this Shelagh. Has your father been seeing her long?"

Tim shifted from one foot to the other nervously, though he had embraced the fake girlfriend idea eagerly, facing down Granny Parker and Helen was like being interrogated on one of those crime shows his dad enjoyed so much. "Not long. It really is very recent."

"Tell us more about her, sweetheart," Granny Parker prodded gently.

Once Tim began talking, he realized it wasn't that hard to say great things about her, she really was his favorite nurse at hospital. "She works way too hard, but she's really nice. She helps me with my homework in the breakroom sometimes and she always shares her biscuits. And we like to talk about articles from the Lancet too, which is great because sometimes dad is too busy to explain it all to me."

"You discuss Lancet articles?" Tim hadn't noticed Patrick enter the kitchen, but he continued undeterred.

"Yeah, and Disney movies. She thinks Beauty and the Beast is the best, but I say it's Lion King."

Patrick seemed astonished, and a little bit melancholy in realizing that his son was growing up quickly and he was missing so much. He hadn't realized how much time Tim spent with Nurse Mannion. There was a lot more to her than he'd ever known and he resolved to remember to thank her later for helping Tim with his homework. He knew from experience how difficult it could be to get Tim to concentrate on his maths. He began to picture the pair together in the breakroom, heads huddled together in concentration as they poured over the sums or revised history. He thought of her bright smile and wondered what kind of jokes she liked, what other movies besides Disney she enjoyed, and what kind of music she was piping through her headphones as she left for the bus each evening - things he'd never before wondered or cared to wonder about her.

He was broken from his reverie by Granny Parker. "She seems lovely. I'd like to get to know her better. Come to Sunday dinner this week."

It was less a request than a statement. He thought about arguing, but knew there would be no point. So much for this being an easy situation to navigate. What had been one tea and a Christmas party was turning into lunch with his mother-in-law and whatever else she had up her sleeve. He sighed internally in defeat. "I'll see if she has Sunday afternoon off."

* * *

Left alone in the sitting room with Jessica, Shelagh wondered what this outgoing American had in common with Patrick that Helen would try to set them up. Of course, Patrick did act as if there had been many introductions made over the months, so perhaps this was part of a last ditch effort to find him love. After all, opposites do attract sometimes. Jessica was a sweet person, really, but she talked quite a lot and seemed overly enthusiastic about everything.

"I am glad you're here," Jessica said, "I was very nervous about this strange doctor I was meeting and I almost didn't show. But I didn't want to disappoint Helen, so here I am."

"That was very kind of you."

Jessica peeked toward the kitchen to make sure the rest of the group was out of earshot, then leaned in to whisper to Shelagh, "He really is hot, though, lucky you."

Shelagh's cheeks went immediately red and she stammered for a response. If she had been confused how to respond to questions about how they met, she was completely baffled by a proper reply now. He was her real coworker, but also her fake boyfriend. She needed to keep a professional distance to him in her mind or things would become muddled quickly.

Luckily Jessica didn't seem to notice as she continued to prattle away, "I don't like to talk about other people's boyfriends, but I could watch him walk out of the room all day…"

She hadn't thought her cheeks could get any redder, but she was wrong. Her eyes looked up to the door to the kitchen unbidden, her mind conjuring up thoughts of Patrick without her permission. Jessica did have a point, she thought to herself before she could stop. Although she was much more drawn to his eyes, and the little wrinkles that formed around them when he smiled, and the way that his hair would fall just so into them… Things were becoming muddled indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

As they drove Shelagh back to her flat after tea, Timothy prattled on in the backseat about all the questions Granny Parker had cornered him with. "She asked when you started dating and what Nurse Mannion is like and what foods she likes and what we talk about. I did the best I could, but I avoided most of the details. I hope I did okay and didn't make her suspicious. Do you think I did okay, Dad?"

Patrick glanced up into the rearview mirror and locked eyes briefly with his son, "you were brilliant." He gave a little smirk, "Although you convinced me to go along with this whole scheme, so you'd better not get me in trouble with Granny!"

Tim put his hand to his chest, mouth opening wide in his best attempt at a mock impression of being shocked and offended, "Who me? I would never!"

Shelagh glanced back and forth from father to son, laughing outright at the younger's play acting. Despite her nervousness at the beginning of the day, she had found herself quite at ease with the Turners. Shelagh knew Tim well enough to know they would get on, but she had wondered about Dr. Turner's personality outside of hospital. She had never seen him in any social situations, although that might have as much to do with her lack of going out after work as it did with him. As her laughter died down to a pleasant smile across her lips, she realized that her anxiousness over whether they would be comfortable enough around each other to pull the charade off was unfounded. Patrick was much more relaxed than she had imagined and she really enjoyed the ease with which he was able to make her laugh.

"Um, Nurse Mannion?" Tim fiddled with his fingers and glanced up slowly as the car slowed to a stop.

"Tim, you can call me Shelagh when we're not at hospital. What is it, dear?"

"Well, um, _Shelagh_ , I was wondering…" he took a deep breath, "Since you're Dad's 'girlfriend' and all, maybe we could hang out sometime? You know, so I could have more stories for Granny?"

Shelagh smiled wide, "Of course! That would be lovely! What about Sunday afternoon?"

"Actually," Patrick interjected, "If you're not working on Sunday, Granny has practically insisted that we all come to lunch on Sunday."

Her anxiousness returned in full force against her will for a moment, but a glance at Patrick's reassuring smile and Tim's overt enthusiasm of a good home cooked meal steeled her nerves. "I'm not working on Sunday. I rarely do. Sister Julienne is kind enough to try to keep my schedule free on Sundays, as she does with the nuns, since I help lead the church choir most weeks. Although sometimes it can't be helped and I do get called in on occasion."

Patrick could have kicked himself. He knew she was very active in her church, but how could he have not noticed her absence on the same day week after week? Of course, as he looked at her anew in the evening light, he wondered what else he had not noticed. How, for example, had he never seen how beautiful her smile was? Or how her nose wrinkled when she giggled? Or how much Tim adored her? He shook himself out of his thoughts and back into the present moment, "We can pick you up after church then?"

"Of course," she turned round to face the backseat, thinking through her schedule aloud. "Let's see... I'm working tonight and have tomorrow off, but I'll be tired and have errands to run… hmmm, I work the next two days, but I won't be covering for Sister Evangelina again so I'm back on day shift." She sat up straight to look more directly at Tim, "How does Friday evening work for you?"

"Perfect! Can't wait!"

* * *

The rest of the week seemed to go by as normal. Shelagh didn't think she was behaving any differently than usual, but apparently was less successful than she realized when Thursday afternoon Trixie abruptly sat down at the table with her on their break. "Spill it, sister."

Shelagh closed her book and looked up in confusion, "I beg your pardon?"

"Something is up with you and I want to know what it is. You seem happier or something. Don't look at me like that! I've heard you humming and singing quietly in the halls and on your rounds. Even sitting here reading you have a smile across your face. And I don't think-" Trixie took a pointed glance at the book on the table "Stephen McGann's history of family sicknesses is the source of your joy."

"It's quite fascinating, actually," Shelagh remarked, clearly not convincing her colleague.

"He is attractive, I'll give him that," Trixie mused, pulling the volume closer. "He actually looks a bit like Dr. Turner." She shoved the book aside and pulled her chair closer to Shelagh, "... but I don't want to talk about Dr. Turner, I want to know what has you so happy. I know you've been leading the church choir, did you win a competition or something?"

Shelagh wore an amused smile, but shook her head.

"A memorable delivery happen this week, perhaps?"

Another shake of her head, "All routine, I'm afraid."

"A man then?" Trixie grinned in triumph at the briefly startled look on Shelagh's face, "You can't deny it. Who is he? Have you gone on a date or is it a one sided affection?"

Shelagh began to sweat, her hands shaking as she hid them beneath the table. Her relationship — no, she couldn't even call it that since it wasn't real — her whatever it was with Dr. Turner needed to remain a secret. If word got around hospital, not only would she have to face Sister Julienne, but it would be much harder to stage the break up. As it was, she simply had to stop going round to Granny Parker's and let Patrick deal with it from there. "We, well, we sort of went out, but I wouldn't call it a date. I really don't want to say…"

"Well, if you're not ready to tell who, that's fine, I won't pry."

Shelagh let out a sigh of relief and looked tenderly at Trixie, wondering why she had spent so long pushing such a sweet nurse away. An incredibly talented midwife, always able to take charge of difficult situations and calm the most nervous of mothers, Nurse Franklin was someone Shelagh was determined to no longer take for granted.

"But you're not getting off scot free. We simply _must_ update your look a bit."

"Trixie, I'm not so sure that-"

"I'm not going to make you up to look like Marilyn Monroe or anything! Just, maybe, find you a more suitable pair of glasses, a new haircut, that sort of thing. When are you free?"

Shelagh took a deep breath, remembering her convictions of just a moment ago to no longer shut the other midwives out. "I don't have any plans tonight."


	5. Chapter 5

Shelagh stood still, blinking hard as she stared at the reflection before her in the fitting room mirror. Trixie certainly was trying to give her a new look, but this wasn't one that Shelagh thought suited her style. "It's a bit too… _much_ I think Trixie."

"Nonsense, sweetie! Come out here and let me take a look at you." Trixie inhaled a short breath as Shelagh stepped out to show off the most recent dress chosen for her to try on, "You look stunning! That dress is perfect. You simply must get it! Surely there will be at least one Christmas party you could wear it to, never underestimate the power of a little black dress."

"It's not too _little_?" Shelagh asked as she vainly attempted to stretch the fabric lower to cover more of her thighs. What would Sister Julienne say if she saw her in this? What would Patrick think? How would he react? Her hands began to instinctively try to tug the dress higher on her chest.

Trixie stepped closer to Shelagh and stilled her nervous hands, squeezing them reassuringly. "Sweetie, I don't know who this man is that has brightened your smile and opened you up to the world, but I know one thing: he doesn't stand a chance against this dress."

"It's not like that; I'm not trying to- I don't know what I'm trying to do. But I didn't come out tonight because of some man. I want to open up more, to change," Shelagh glanced at the floor, face turning red as her voice became quiet and she took a deep breath, starting again. "I want to change, to be a better friend, Trixie - for me, not for anyone else. I doubt this... this… thing will last long anyway. But I've realized that I put myself on a path a long time ago that I'm not sure I should be on any longer. I want to be a different person; I'm ready for a different road."

Trixie enveloped Shelagh into a tight embrace, the hint of a tear glistening in her eyes, "I'm so glad you've decided to finally let the world in, to let me in, just don't go changing on me too much!" She straightened up and stood back, steering her friend back toward the mirror with a broad smile, "So, the bloke is unimportant.. but you still must _absolutely_ get this dress."

* * *

As Trixie continued rummaging through her wardrobe, the pile of clothes which Trixie insisted were far too out of date kept growing ever taller. Shelagh was struck by the stark contrast between the vivacious blonde and her drab flat. Trixie seemed full of life and Shelagh felt so devoid of anything remotely resembling it. For almost ten years, Shelagh's world had consisted solely of her work at Nonnatus Women's Hospital and her service at All Saints' Church. But for the first time in many years, perhaps the first time since her mother's death, presented with a new opportunity for friendship, Shelagh had no desire to shrink back and push her away. Instead of allowing herself to believe she was too small or not enough, or any of those other lies she had allowed herself to believe for so long, she was determined to go through with the change she had told Trixie of earlier.

"You've gone quiet over there, Sweetie, am I getting rid of too much? Is it too overwhelming for you? I can stop if you'd like." Trixie gave Shelagh a smile as she glanced tenderly up from the dress she had been inspecting.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I got lost in thought. Please continue, I need all the help I can get," Shelagh said with a laugh, "I'm embarrassed to admit that some of these outfits I've had since my school days. They probably aren't the most flattering of choices."

"Well then, I'm glad I was able to talk you into so many purchases today!"

"I really haven't had much opportunity to wear anything besides scrubs and my Sunday best in quite some time…" Shelagh's voice trailed off as the two women locked eyes, an apology written on her face for all the times she'd turned Trixie away and shunned any sort of friendship.

Shelagh joined Trixie at the wardrobe as the two began putting away her new purchases. When the new black dress came out of a bag, Trixie suggested it be immediately put to good use. "Let's go out tomorrow night. We can invite Cynthia along, and Chummy if she doesn't already have a date. We can go dancing!"

"It's not that I don't want to," Shelagh began as she twisted her hands nervously in front of her and looked to the floor, "I just can't tomorrow night." She hated to see the pain that swept briefly over her friend's face, but she had promised Timothy they could spend time together and already had a whole evening planned. Could she tell Trixie? Would that be risking too much? Would Trixie somehow guess Dr. Turner was her mystery man? Not that Dr. Turner was 'her man.' But if she lied, saying she had a date, and someone on duty asked Patrick who was watching Timothy and he revealed it was Shelagh, Trixie would definitely find out something was going on…

Abruptly Shelagh realized that she had grown completely still during her internal rambling and Trixie was staring at her now less with pain and more with curiosity at her odd behavior. Quickly deciding to go with her earlier philosophy of always sticking as close to the truth as possible, Shelagh blurted out, "I have to babysit tomorrow night. Sorry, it's no big deal, but I have felt bad for Timothy Turner recently, always having to spend his time in the break room, so I told Pat- ahem, Dr. Turner, that I would stay with him tomorrow evening after my shift. He really is a sweet boy. But I hadn't wanted to say anything… I, uh, didn't, um, want to embarrass Timothy."

"You really are so kind, Shelagh," Trixie said with a smile, "always thinking of others. No matter, we'll go out another weekend!"

Shelagh breathed a sigh of relief when she realized Trixie thought nothing strange of her offer to spend time with the young boy. It had only been a few days, but this fake relationship was already becoming too complicated.


	6. Chapter 6

"Don't forget I'll be working late tonight, Tim, so make sure you bring something to do after school," Patrick said over his shoulder as he hurriedly gathered his things and poured coffee into a travel mug.

"No, it's Friday Dad, I'll be spending the evening with Shelagh, remember?" Timothy responded with a mouth full of corn flakes, "she promised to come over and hang out with me tonight."

Patrick stopped abruptly. "Oh, yes, right, I'd, um, forgotten about that." All of the sudden it felt as if his fingers couldn't follow simple commands and he spilled the sugar he was dispensing into his coffee all over the counter. "Oh come on, really?" Patrick muttered to himself, "pull yourself together, Turner."

Tim dropped his bowl in the sink, the spoon clanging loudly, jolting Patrick, "What's gotten into you, Dad? We've gotta go or we're both going to be late."

Brushing the last of the crumbs into the bin, Patrick grabbed his bag and his coffee. "So, um, what do you plan to do with Shelagh this evening?" He hated the way his voice sounded like he was having to force it to be casual, which he was. He hated the thought that Tim would get too attached to a relationship already destined to fall apart. He hated the risk it posed to their professional relationship. He hated that every time he heard her name, a vision of her came to him unbidden, each time a different picture in his mind's eye - her at Granny Parker's house for tea, her laughing with Tim, her focusing intently during a difficult labor, her in those jeans that fit her so well…

"I'm not sure what we'll do, probably just doss about. It's always just fun to hang out."

* * *

Patrick hadn't been at the hospital long before he ran into Shelagh in the corridor. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of her. Her hair was styled differently, though he couldn't tell if it was shorter or not, he was so used to seeing her with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. He certainly noticed her lack of glasses, her blue eyes piercing right through him as he approached. "So did you switch to contacts or are you delivering babies blind today?" he joked as he approached.

Shelagh blushed, "Trixie convinced me to give the contacts a chance. Although I'm not sure Sister Evangelina was impressed with the change."

"Well, I think all the change looks lovely," he said with his signature broad smile.

"Thank you," Shelagh said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Patrick shifted the tone of the conversation, "Are you sure you're comfortable spending time with Tim this evening? You won't be too tired after your shift?"

"Oh, of course!" Shelagh perked up immediately at the mention of Timothy, "I love spending time with him. Plus, I don't have a long shift today and will have the rest of the weekend to rest." She paused before adding, "as long as I make it through my last patient, that is."

His interest was piqued and Patrick reached out to lower the chart in her arms so he could glance at the patient name typed across the top: Maeve Carter. "I don't recall meeting her before. Difficult pregnancy? Or difficult patient?"

"Actually, Maeve is quite nice - very shy, to be sure, but overall nervous about becoming a mother, especially since she's carrying twins. And her twin sister isn't helping matters in the least. Meg never leaves her side and is constantly bringing up negatives: Maeve's age, the family history of difficult deliveries, the fact that their own mother passed during childbirth, and of course everything that we're doing wrong." Patrick gave her an inquisitive look. "It seems she has little appreciation for modern medicine and technology, she'd rather place all of her faith in homeopathic medicine and essential oils."

"Page me when she begins active labor. If there is a history of difficulty, I want to be close by."

"Of course, Doctor."

* * *

It wasn't too much later that Patrick heard the page come over the intercom, informing him that his presence was requested in Labor and Delivery Room 3. As he arrived, he found the patient's twin sister, Meg Carter, arguing with Nurse Franklin about the light switch.

"I told you, all the Mummy blogs said that the fluorescent lighting in here is terrible for delivery. It needs to be turned off if we want positive vibes flowing through the room!" Meg exclaimed, as if only a total fool would think otherwise.

"And as I said before, we cannot help your sister deliver her babies if we cannot see!" Nurse Franklin switched the light back on and placed her hand over it, "If you touch this switch again you will be escorted out of the room."

"Come on, Meg, just come hold my hand!" Maeve begged through labored breaths. Meg, her pride clearly hurt, muttered something about fetching some ice chips and slinked out of the room.

Patrick knew that Nurse Franklin and Nurse Mannion had the situation under control, so he hung back simply observing until his presence in the situation became necessary. The first baby, a girl, was delivered easily and without complication. It was then that the terrible predictions Meg had made began to come to fruition, as it was discovered that the second baby was lying transverse. Dr. Turner positioned himself to help assist with the birth and he watched, almost in awe, as Nurse Mannion expertly turned the baby so that the head was in position for birth. And then came the blood - the baby would need to be delivered immediately. Dr. Turner turned to Nurse Franklin, "Let's try forceps. I'd like to avoid a C-section if at all possible."

"Of course Doctor," Nurse Franklin nodded confidently, "Maeve, sweetie, baby is having a little bit of trouble getting out, but we're going to help her along, alright? You just hold my hand and lay perfectly still until we tell you to push."

Patrick hated the pain the use of forceps caused mothers, but he knew that the risk of infection and other complications rose when they were forced to perform surgery. This second delivery was clearly agony on Maeve and he was so focused upon working quickly that he did not even notice Meg had re-entered the room, drawn there by her sister's piercing screams. In a flash, Dr. Turner found himself upon the floor, slightly dazed by what was happening. He looked up just in time to see Nurse Mannion attempting to intervene and Meg delivering a sharp slap across her cheek. Anger flared up in Patrick as he stood before Meg. "Listen carefully, Ms. Carter, your sister needs help right now and if you continue to interfere you may lose either her or the baby, perhaps both. Stay out of our way."

Nurse Franklin guided Meg over to her sister's side, "Come hold Maeve's hand, she needs your strength."

With everyone back in position, the team was soon able to help Maeve deliver the second little girl, but only a second passed before they all realized that something was terribly wrong. Nurse Mannion immediately scooped up the tiny baby and began working on getting her to begin breathing. In that moment, Maeve began hemorrhaging, eliciting fear from Meg and quick work from Nurse Franklin to gather the medicines that needed to be administered.

As Nurse Franklin scurried out of the room to get supplies for a blood transfusion, should that become necessary, there was nothing Dr. Turner could do but sit back and wait to see if the medicine would stop the bleeding. He looked back at Nurse Mannion, still massaging and rocking the newborn, now completely in awe of her. There was complete silence in the room as everyone watched and waited to see what would happen to the child and to the mother. Just as he had begun to give up hope for the baby, he heard a tiny cry and saw Shelagh's lips whisper quietly, "Praise the Lord." He let out a breath he was unaware he had been holding and noticed that Maeve had quite recovered also, almost as if the fate of her life had been tied to that of the tiny infant.

* * *

A little while later, Shelagh was surprised to see Patrick on the roof of the hospital, and even more surprised to notice that he held a cigarette in his hand. "I came up for some fresh air before I had to deal with the paperwork of Maeve's chart and changed to go home. Or, rather, to your home with Timothy."

"Well," Patrick chuckled lightly, "you've caught me catching some not so fresh air. We're like an officer and a sergeant the morning after the Somme. And that's not to say I see myself as the officer."

Shelagh stared at Patrick, trying not to look longingly at the cigarette he held in his hand. It had been quite some time since she had allowed herself a sneak of one. She knew how Sister Julienne felt about any of the nurses smoking.

As if reading her mind, Patrick turned to her and said, "I feel as though I should offer you one," clearly not expecting her to accept.

To his great shock, she replied with a sheepish grin, "Just a puff. Quickly, just a wee one." Patrick passed her the cigarette as she asked, "What are these?" She placed her lips around the spot where Patrick's had just been.

"Henleys."

"I used to love Henleys, it's what my father smoked. I used to sneak them from his desk. Thank you." She held up her hand to give the cigarette back, his hand brushing hers in the exchange. It sent a flutter through her system that she couldn't quite explain as she silently walked away.


End file.
